


if you want to view paradise; simply look around and view it

by Zoadgo



Series: Smutember 2017 [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Club Sex, Exhibitionism, F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:06:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: For Smutember Day 8 : Exhibitionism





	if you want to view paradise; simply look around and view it

Emori has always loved the club, from the first moment she stepped into its debauched depths. It’s a place for outsiders, outcasts of society, just like her. In the club, the rules of those who cast them out no longer apply. For a long time, Emori went there and simply lost herself in the sheer humanity of it all; the drugs, the violence, the sex.

Dear god, the sex. 

Everywhere you turned, if people weren’t fighting, they were fucking. Emori had never been one of them, but she couldn’t deny having dreamed about it. About everyone being able to see her, watching her throw the very last of her inhibitions to the wind… There was a certain appeal there for her.

And then Emori had found Murphy, looking so out of place in the wake of the evangelical man who got his ass handed to him when he tried to “save” some of the women at the bar. Murphy hadn’t stepped in, and Emori had watched him closely. Without the man leading him, he seemed to fit right in. Sure, he looked vaguely startled at almost everything, but that’s normal if you’re new to the club. It’s exciting; dangerous; alluring.

He was so charmingly awkward when she flirted with him, and she’d known from early on that he wasn’t just going to be a one night stand. Every night after that, Emori would meet him at the club, or they would go there hand in hand. Some nights they would fight as a team, stealing broken kisses tasting of blood and sweat. Others, they would dance until their feet ached in the morning, so close not even air could pass between their bodies. On a few occasions they would simply sit and watch and talk, and fall even deeper in love.

Tonight, however, their love is strong as ever and Emori can still taste their victory from the previous evening on her tongue. So tonight is the night for dancing. Hot friction between their bodies, grinding together obscenely and drawing more than a few glances. Surrounded by the press of club patrons, they cling to each other, Emori pressing her back to Murphy’s front and guiding his hands, at first on her hips and then steering them lower. She rolls her hips, delighting in the feel of Murphy’s erection against her ass and the low groan she can feel more than hear.

The music is loud, overbearing and discordant in ways that cause Emori’s blood to run wild. She drops her head back against Murphy’s shoulder, leaning her face towards his in order to be heard over it, over the anthem of their rebellion.

“Fuck me,” Emori whispers in Murphy’s ear.

“Right here?” He asks, not sounding at all shocked or offended, and Emori nods. She catches his smile out of the corner of her eye, and she thanks every power that may be in control of fate for that preacher man who brought him into her life. “You got it.”

Without hesitation, with no shame or compunction, Murphy undoes the fly of Emori’s pants and slips a hand into them. Emori’s delighted moan is swallowed up by the sounds of the club as Murphy slides a finger through her folds, parting her pussy lips and gathering the evident wetness already there. He only strokes her a few times before sinking a finger into her, curving his hand in the way Emori loves. A second finger soon joins the first, rocking within Emori so that the heel of Murphy’s hand grinds against her clit. Emori allows herself to be as loud as she can be, grinding down into his hand. 

Dancers around them begin to take notice, and Emori smiles, taking in the feel of their eyes on her. There’s no judgement there, they all are simply enjoying the sight of her and Murphy the way they enjoy the music, or watching a good fight. She could get off like this, so easily, but Emori wants more. She wants to feel entirely exposed, debased and powerful in the same breath.

Emori pulls Murphy’s hand out of her pants in order to turns and face him, throwing the arm with her malformed hand around his neck in order to pull him into a needy kiss. He responds eagerly, tangling his lips with her and chasing her tongue with his own. His grip is hard on her hips, rolling his erection against her in a desperate search for friction, and Emori is more than happy to help him with that. 

She drops her free hand between them, cupping Murphy for a moment through his jeans before working the fly in order to free him. As she struggles for a moment, Murphy slides her pants down in order to grip her ass, and a delightful shiver runs through Emori as the hot air of the club ghosts across her bare skin. She returns the favour to him in a moment, victoriously opening his jeans and sliding them down.

Emori strokes his cock a few times, gathering the precum at his head and spreading it over the length of him. She breaks their lips apart in order to turn around again, leaning forward slightly. She wants to be able to see everyone watching them, to see if others get caught up in their desire because of them. Emori can already see a few girls grinding their hands to the crotch of their pants, and men desperately fumbling. A warm rush spreads through her, and Emori undoes her shirt, freeing her breasts in order to play with them. If she’s going to put on a show, she might as well do it right.

She has a moment’s warning before Murphy enters her, as he grips her and spreads her legs just a little more to accommodate him. He sinks into her with one smooth motion that draws Emori’s breath from her in a gasp. Seated within her, Murphy gives Emori a moment to adjust, and she leans back until her back is pressed to Murphy’s chest. Like this, he reaches around her, one hand moving to join her own at her breasts, the other falling between her legs to rub firm circles on her clit.

“John,” Emori calls his voice in a needy whine that hardly carries at all. But Murphy must hear her, because he kisses her neck and starts to move his hips, more grinding than thrusting given the slightly awkward angle. But it’s perfect, exactly what Emori had been dreaming about.

She rolls her hips against him as best as she can, massaging one of her tits as Murphy plays with the nipple of her other one. It’s almost clumsy, their fucking on the dance floor, more for show than anything. But the show takes it from good to mind-blowing, as Emori watches people dragging their eyes over her, unable to look away from her being fucked, being spread on display. 

“You really like this, huh?” Murphy leans right into Emori’s ear to speak, a note somewhat akin to admiration in his voice. Emori simply nods, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “You know all of them want to touch you right now, they all want to fuck you.”

Emori moans at the thought of it, at how frustrating this must be for some of them, to look but not touch. She runs her hand over her stomach, sees a few people follow the motion of her hand with their hungry gazes. Yes, they all want her, and none of them can have her.

“They must hate you,” Emori shouts to be heard over the the music, smiling, “Because you’re the only one who gets me.”

“Good,” Murphy says, breath hot on Emori’s neck. He presses a kiss there, then sinks his teeth in, sucking what Emori knows will be a dark bruise into the soft flesh. She loves it, loves the little ways Murphy likes to claim her as his.

Murphy presses harder on her clit and grinds against her more firmly, and Emori can feel her orgasm building within her. She lets her eyes drift shut, giving into the feeling of Murphy body so hot and all encompassing, and the knowledge that she’s got a crowd of people watching her get off. Watching Murphy make her feel so damn good, when all they get is their own heavy hands, or the awkward fumbling of a stranger. None of them get her, and none of them get him, and she could almost feel bad for them if she didn’t feel so damn good.

Emori covers Murphy’s hand with her own, pressing it into place and urging him onwards. She just needs a little more, and Murphy responds happily, doubling his efforts. He pinches her nipple between his fingers, sending a bolt of pain laced desire straight through her, and rubs at her clit more earnestly. With a cry, Emori clenches around him, her orgasm cresting intensely through her. She wonders what she looks like, head thrown back, being fucked as she comes hard.

Murphy drops his hand from Emori’s clit as she begins to come down off her high, gripping her hip instead and adjusting her slightly so he can thrust a little more fully. She knows it won’t take him long, it never does after she finishes. It’s just this side of too intense, being fucked so firmly right after her climax, but she loves it. Emori opens her eyes and takes in the naked desire in the eyes of their audience, and another flutter of arousal starts in her core.

Suddenly, Murphy pulls out of Emori, stroking himself off with a few quick pumps before spilling his cum on the floor, to mix with the other sticky detritus of the club. Emori turns to kiss him again as he tucks himself back in his pants, wrapping her arms around him in a slow, decadent embrace.

“Thank you,” Emori whispers in his ear, as Murphy helps her pull her pants back up.

“Any time,” Murphy promises, before giving her another quick kiss and leading her off of the dance floor.

The club is the place for all of their most debauched fantasies, and Emori loves it and the man who delves into it with her with all her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> So I imagine this one to be in a sort of post-apocalyptic environment, part of a city where the core is a utopia for all those who fit a certain standard, and everyone else is cast into slums. The "club" mentioned here is a large section of one of the slum cities, running at all hours of the day and catering to every 'undesirable' behaviour. All patrons of the club can be assumed to giving a certain level of consent - in regards to seeing people having sex; not in being open to sex themselves -  
>  in the same manner as someone at a sex club or a well organized orgy. I mayyyyybe have put more thought into this than I needed to for a short smut ficlet.
> 
> Anyways, I'm [on tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) if y'all wanna ask me about my club!verse or anything else!


End file.
